


Snippet: Blackmail

by gatekat



Series: Short Things [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Prowl has Major Secrets, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2019-11-24 09:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: Prowl was around well before the war and as an Enforcer he had hobbies. Not all of them are safe for him now.





	Snippet: Blackmail

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/21737312  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114568/chapters/21979208

"Hay Boss, you clear for a bit?" a voice Jazz hadn't heard in person for ages drew an honest smile to his features in greeting to an agent left behind on Cybertron so long ago.

"Of course, you said it was important," he put down the datapad he'd been skimming to focus on an agent that even when they were on the same planet he didn't see in his office all that often. "What did you find?"

"A dozen cubes of music, mostly live performances copied from fresh memory. They cover about five millennia before the destruction of Praxus," the agent offered a single datastick. "After scanning them, we released all but those to the public."

Jazz lifted an optic ridge under his visor and slid the datastick into a port to listen. "He's not bad," he commented as the first tones of a Praxian Circular Harp echoed inside his helm. The player wasn't a pro but had definite skills for an amateur. When a voice joined the instrument's sounds Jazz froze, his visor brightening in shock.

"Yeah. Up to you what to do with those," his agent stood. "You and 'Lash have the only copies I know of now."

"Thank you, Quicksilver," Jazz inclined his helm as the agent slipped out, likely not to be seen again until his scavenging turned up something else useful. It left Jazz alone to judge the genuine nature and damage these performances by the SIC before he was an Autobot could cause. Already he knew why they were in his hands.

* * *

Jazz relaxed in his office, twisting his chair back and fourth behind his desk. Prowl would be here in a few kliks and he wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting or hoping for. He was still trying to wrap his processor around the facts he could hear clearly. 

Prowl's voice singing. 

An instrument he still wasn't entirely sure what it was. A light harp of some kind, but not one he knew.

Praxian, and while he was more than willing to admit he didn't know it as well as Prowl, he knew it more than well enough to understand every glyph being sung and most of the subtext.

Prowl, rule abiding, former Enforcer Prowl, was singing things ... disparaging of the Prime. Dismissing of the Senate. Praising of the revolt. Most disturbingly of all, praising, open praising of Megatron.

It was incredibly disturbing given who Prowl was now.

The door opening drew him back to the room and the conversation that was coming.

"What did you find that could not come to my office?" Prowl asked with the blunt forwardness he was known for.

While he hid his relief, it did allow Jazz to relax to have such a perfect opening. "This," he said as he queued up one of the less damning songs.

Doorwings quirked up and Prowl sat down with slow calmness. "What do you intend to do with them?"

"Them?" Jazz prodded.

"I recognized much of the music released recently as performances I was there for on nights I performed. The odds everything else was found but somehow those breems while I was on stage were not are so improbable I didn't grant it a percentage," Prowl said simply. "I'm sure you have more than enough to destroy my future with the Autobots. So what do you intent to do?"

Jazz stared at him for a long moment. "Mech, for someone who could face charges of treason no matter how improbable you are way too calm."

"I'm a master tactician. I have been updating plans for this event for as long as I've been an Autobot. I knew it was only a matter of time when the first of Kellepper's recordings reached Earth."

"Wait, you know who these are from?" Jazz's optics brightened slightly.

"Of course. He was a well-known face at amateur performances and open stage events. Everyone knew he saved the memory files," Prowl cocked his helm slightly. "I knew most if not all of the performers personally as well."

Jazz settled in his chair. "So this is really you. Really real."

"Quite real," Prowl flicked his doorwings in shrug. "You truly are surprised I could sing."

"Well, yeah, mech. I'm surprised at so many songs I'd never heard of too. It's been my jam _forever_ ," Jazz stared at him.

Prowl paused, working to translate for a bit before he shrugged and accepted that he knew the intent. "You likely never heard most because most were composed by the performers, or at least by another amateur."

"And yours?" Jazz asked, almost dreading the answer. It was one thing to sing rebellious songs, especially if they were well known by the audience. It was entirely another to compose them.

"I wrote almost everything I preformed," Prowl told him calmly.

"Will you sing something for me? You have a beautiful singing voice," Jazz asked softly.

"Thank you, but I can not," Prowl shook his helm.

"It doesn't have to be something like this. I mean anything," Jazz tried to reassure him.

"I truly meant I can not. When I decided to join the very forces I'd spent centuries ridiculing I edited several protocols to ensure I could not accidentally give my feelings away. I am completely incapable of singing or playing any instrument."

Jazz felt his spark twist. He could very well imagine how much that would hurt to do to himself, the level of desperation and fear it would require. Still ... "You know Optimus wouldn't care."

"Optimus, yes. He is aware of my feelings. The rank and file are another matter. I'm sure you don't even need to imagine the propaganda potential of this, much less the value of something created after I was an officer," Prowl pointed out seriously. "There is no good way for that to end."

Jazz had to nod. "So, what is your plan?"

"When it becomes known I will either bolt or face trail, depending on how quickly I am arrested," Prowl shrugged. "Until then I will do my duty and fight for the Autobots. It honestly changes very little."

"No one is going to learn from me or 'Lash. We're the only ones with a copy," Jazz promised, even knowing it wasn't one he could be sure would be kept.

"And the agents that found the memory cubes, and those that scanned it for contents. Even so, it makes little difference. There was always the potential for discovery," Prowl flicked his doorwings in a shrug.

"All right," Jazz accepted the statement and its truth. "Do you want a copy of the original in whole?"

Prowl paused and truly seemed to think about it. His doorwings answered no before he spoke. "I would rather not be so clearly reminded of what I've lost."

"Yeah, I can feel yeah, mech," Jazz sighed and turned the music off at the end of the song. "I'll do what I can to protect 'ya. No matter the past, you work hard for the cause now."

"Thank you," Prowl inclined his helm and stood.


End file.
